Coffee Guy Part 2
by MTgivens
Summary: Payson's Romance with an older guy takes more twists and turns.
1. Chapter 2

An alternative romance

_"I am growing," she thought._

Payson sat alone in her room, staring at the mirror. She wasn't going to the gym, and she didn't want to see anyone. Her blonde hair and smooth face would easily be overshadowed by the red eyes that were glowing.

So many tears had fallen over the past year.

_"And now I'm growing," she thought again._

There were so many thoughts that had kept her company over the last year. Ever since she found herself in a hospital bed with a broken back, a broken dream, and broken thoughts running through her head. And not to mention, no National Team.

It could have been so different, but it wasn't. She was now trapped in the body of a damaged gymnast, who had fallen off the uneven bars in front of the entire nation. Her dream of being the national champion was gone for two years, and possibly forever.

And everyone was ahead of her.

Payson knew that there was not a soul on earth that knew what she was going through.

She realized she did have a best friend. The new national champion of the "The Rock," Kaylie Cruz. But did Kaylie really play the role of a friend in need?

Payson knew she had support, but it felt hollow. Kaylie had more fun wearing the crown of gym leader. Did she really know what Payson went through? Every step Payson took she felt the disks in her back move in just the smallest way. It wasn't painful physically, it was a reminder that she was damaged.

No, today she would not go to the gym.

Today was for Payson to be alone and realize that she had to do something unthinkable…become a woman.

II

The streets of Boulder were bright and sunny, and they were comforting enough to the eye for Payson to hide her tears. She walked with hair in a pony tail and wearing a bright yellow jacket.

But it wasn't that cold. She just preferred it because it made people notice the jacket and not her body.

Normally, Payson went for juice, but today she walked into a Starbucks. It was 10:30 A.M. All the morning office workers had already had their coffee and overpriced pastries. And it was too early for the standard lunch break, where office workers had their coffee and overpriced salads. So the place was empty.

Payson walked to the counter, and there was no one there. To her left were three black bar stools and fake marble seating area. She sat down and peered around to see someone.

Emerging from the back room came a man, wearing a skintight black over shirt, and the standard green Starbucks apron. His hair was matted and dark brown. Eyes were distant and not focusing on much. And he was wearing gloves inside.

The first thing Payson thought of when she saw him was.

_"Walking Mess."_

"So what can I do for you?"

"What kind of coffee do women drink?" She asked.

He paused and looked confused.

" Um, I don't know you tell me," he replied. "You're the woman."

"I am not a woman," Payson shot back. "I am not a woman yet, but I will be soon. So I need to learn how to do what women do. But I'm still a girl for now. I wish it was always that way."

"So are you like a female Peter Pan?" He asked. "You know a lot of the actors that played him were women."

"No," Payson said awkwardly. "But I did play a prince once."

The employee only stared at her with his blank look and nodded.

"I see," he mumbled. "Well, what's popular with women? Grande Green Tea Latte probably."

"Ew," Payson almost spat.

"I know, it tastes like it looks," he agreed. "Why don't you get the standard French Press coffee? It's a dollar more, but the quality is…well, frenchly exquisite."

He smiled. Payson frowned.

"No, anything but that," she almost screamed.

"Pourquoi pas mademoiselle?

"Don't speak French either," she gasped a little. "I just got back from Calais where I ruined my life. And now I have to deal with all this….being a woman."

The barista laughed. Then, he realized he shouldn't and grimaced while staring at the ground.

"Desole," he admitted slowly. "I mean sorry."

"So you speak French?" she asked sarcastically.

"Um, I'm not supposed to mention anything French," he nodded along, and for the first time Payson read his name tag which said Malik.

"Fine mention this," she requested.

"I was born in a place called Lebanon," Malik began. "It's a tiny country in the middle east. I guess they have a lot of French speakers. When I was 2, we moved to Bulgaria, and lived there until I was 8. Then, we moved here when my dad starting teaching at a NYU. He's a Geneticist."

Payson nodded without a strong interest.

"Sounds nice," she said.

"Not really," Malik disagreed. "My family is full of scientists. Full of French-speaking Scientists that only talk about Science in French. I was never interested. So once I turned 18, I just left one morning. I said I was moving out to California to become a singer. I got as far as boulder. And I've been here for five years."

Payson now made eye contact with Malik for the first serious time.

"You're a singer?" She asked, thinking of her friend and fellow gymnast, Emily, who at one point was torn between two musicians.

But she quickly tossed that thought out of her head.

"Nope," Malik muttered. "I wanted to be, but it's not possible. I am much better at being the manager of a Boulder Starbucks."

He laughed a little, but Payson did not.

"Why didn't you go after your dream?" Payson demanded to know.

After falling off the bars at Nationals, Payson felt shocked that someone had the chance to go after a dream, but wouldn't.

"It's just not possible," he said again.

"No, you only get one chance to go for what matters most in your life," Payson started to rant, "and you don't realize how much you truly want your dream, once it's gone."

"I told you, it wasn't possible," he raised his voice.

"No, why didn't you go?" She demanded again.

"Because nobody wants a singer that looks like this."

Malik ripped off his two black gloves and revealed the skin of his hands, he was cloaked in brown scars with traces of red. The skin was mangled and charred. And Payson gasped and gulped a little. She was just thankful that she didn't scream.

"Every time I wanted to sing for people," he began, "they always wanted to see what I looked like. They always wanted to know why someone would want to sing in a body suit with turtleneck black gloves. It got to the point where no one cared what I sounded like, but they only cared about the look. And I don't have the look."

"I'm sorry," she said. "How did it happen?"

Malik looked at her, and his eyes bore signs of discomfort.

"I was ten. It was my birthday, and it was almost midnight. I had my birthday cake earlier, but I thought the candles weren't a big enough flame. So I tried to make a bigger flame with the kerosene lantern. I lit it, but then I knocked it over in the living room. The couch caught fire first, and I tried to put it out, but there were too many flames. It just felt like it was eating me, and it guess it kind of was."

"Oh my gosh," Payson exclaimed.

"The whole house was burned to the ground," he continued. "I was the only one hurt."

"How bad is it?" Payson asked him.

"What? The scars?" He asked back. "Everything from the neck down almost, but that I honestly do not mind anymore. After the fire, my four sisters didn't hated me. I was trapped in a cast of bandages and ointment for 11 months, and I could hear them complaining about losing their stuff in the fire, losing their make up kits, and easy bake oven. I wanted to be like 'try losing all the skin on your lower body, and being stuck in one room for almost a year. Then, talk to me about lost.'"

Payson nodded, and she smiled at Malik as he put his gloves back on.

"I can't know bad that was," she admitted, "but last year well…I was a gymnast. I am a gymnast, and I worked harder than anyone I know. Anyone on the face of the Earth, and one second I fell off the bars, and I fractured my spine. I had lost it all too. My dream was gone. I could barely walk, and I was trapped in a giant metal back brace that made me look like a "teenage mutant ninja turtle," as one person put it."

Malik laughed.

"I should not have laughed," he acknowleged.

"No, not really," Payson smiled jokingly. "I didn't think anyone else could understand. What it's like to one second be yourself, and the next second you have the same mind, but you feel like nothing. Your life feels gone forever."

"But you said you're still a gymnast," Malik pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess I am," said Payson.

"I didn't catch your name," mentioned Malik.

"Payson," she answered. "Payson Keeler."

"Well, Payson, why don't I write you my address here, and you should come over tonight. And I don't mean anything more than just coming over."

He began scribbling numbers and letters on a napkin and slid it to her.

Payson froze.

"Maybe," she said at last, and took the napkin in her pocket. Then, she was out the door in a flash, not realizing she hadn't ordered any coffee.

III

Payson sat at the dinner table with her mother. Her sister Becca was off with one of her friends for dinner, probably Avery, but Payson wasn't sure.

"Are you okay?" Her mother asked. "You haven't touched your mashed potatoes."

"I am fine," Payson answered.

"Well, okay, what did you do today?" she pressed.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Payson responded with lightning speed.

"Sounds like…okay," she answered.

"Can I be excused Mom?" Payson asked for permission. "I didn't make it to the gym today, so I probably should get in another run."

"Sounds good."

"Okay, bye. Oh but mom, I will be at the gym tomorrow. I'll be there as early as I can."

Payson was aware of her awkwardness, but she was more concerned with the uncomfortable feeling of butterflies and adrenaline in her system.

_"What are you doing Payson?" she told herself as she walked outside. "What are you doing? You are Payson Keeler. You don't date boys. Besides, he's like 23, and you are nowhere near his…Oh, you didn't tell him your age did you? And the fact that you're growing now means, he probably thinks you're a lot older. Would he care if you were still a minor? And why are you still walking? This is not like you at all. Don't do this Payson. You've seen what happens when gymnasts date guys. It ruined things between Kaylie and Lauren. It cost Emily her chance to compete in Calais. So why are you still walking?" _

A half hour later she was at his door. Her blood felt like it was on fire and racing too quickly.

The door opened, and Malik was standing in front of her, wearing pajama pants and a long sleeve pajama shirt with gloves.

"I didn't expect you to come," he confessed.

"No one else understands, do they?" She asked him. "No one else knows what it's like to have that kind of loss."

And she took a step forward and she kissed him.

To Be Continued.


	2. Chapter 1

An alternative romance

_"I am growing," she thought._

Payson sat alone in her room, staring at the mirror. She wasn't going to the gym, and she didn't want to see anyone. Her blonde hair and smooth face would easily be overshadowed by the red eyes that were glowing.

So many tears had fallen over the past year.

_"And now I'm growing," she thought again._

There were so many thoughts that had kept her company over the last year. Ever since she found herself in a hospital bed with a broken back, a broken dream, and broken thoughts running through her head. And not to mention, no National Team.

It could have been so different, but it wasn't. She was now trapped in the body of a damaged gymnast, who had fallen off the uneven bars in front of the entire nation. Her dream of being the national champion was gone for two years, and possibly forever.

And everyone was ahead of her.

Payson knew that there was not a soul on earth that knew what she was going through.

She realized she did have a best friend. The new national champion of the "The Rock," Kaylie Cruz. But did Kaylie really play the role of a friend in need?

Payson knew she had support, but it felt hollow. Kaylie had more fun wearing the crown of gym leader. Did she really know what Payson went through? Every step Payson took she felt the disks in her back move in just the smallest way. It wasn't painful physically, it was a reminder that she was damaged.

No, today she would not go to the gym.

Today was for Payson to be alone and realize that she had to do something unthinkable…become a woman.

II

The streets of Boulder were bright and sunny, and they were comforting enough to the eye for Payson to hide her tears. She walked with hair in a pony tail and wearing a bright yellow jacket.

But it wasn't that cold. She just preferred it because it made people notice the jacket and not her body.

Normally, Payson went for juice, but today she walked into a Starbucks. It was 10:30 A.M. All the morning office workers had already had their coffee and overpriced pastries. And it was too early for the standard lunch break, where office workers had their coffee and overpriced salads. So the place was empty.

Payson walked to the counter, and there was no one there. To her left were three black bar stools and fake marble seating area. She sat down and peered around to see someone.

Emerging from the back room came a man, wearing a skintight black over shirt, and the standard green Starbucks apron. His hair was matted and dark brown. Eyes were distant and not focusing on much. And he was wearing gloves inside.

The first thing Payson thought of when she saw him was.

_"Walking Mess."_

"So what can I do for you?"

"What kind of coffee do women drink?" She asked.

He paused and looked confused.

" Um, I don't know you tell me," he replied. "You're the woman."

"I am not a woman," Payson shot back. "I am not a woman yet, but I will be soon. So I need to learn how to do what women do. But I'm still a girl for now. I wish it was always that way."

"So are you like a female Peter Pan?" He asked. "You know a lot of the actors that played him were women."

"No," Payson said awkwardly. "But I did play a prince once."

The employee only stared at her with his blank look and nodded.

"I see," he mumbled. "Well, what's popular with women? Grande Green Tea Latte probably."

"Ew," Payson almost spat.

"I know, it tastes like it looks," he agreed. "Why don't you get the standard French Press coffee? It's a dollar more, but the quality is…well, frenchly exquisite."

He smiled. Payson frowned.

"No, anything but that," she almost screamed.

"Pourquoi pas mademoiselle?

"Don't speak French either," she gasped a little. "I just got back from Calais where I ruined my life. And now I have to deal with all this….being a woman."

The barista laughed. Then, he realized he shouldn't and grimaced while staring at the ground.

"Desole," he admitted slowly. "I mean sorry."

"So you speak French?" she asked sarcastically.

"Um, I'm not supposed to mention anything French," he nodded along, and for the first time Payson read his name tag which said Malik.

"Fine mention this," she requested.

"I was born in a place called Lebanon," Malik began. "It's a tiny country in the middle east. I guess they have a lot of French speakers. When I was 2, we moved to Bulgaria, and lived there until I was 8. Then, we moved here when my dad starting teaching at a NYU. He's a Geneticist."

Payson nodded without a strong interest.

"Sounds nice," she said.

"Not really," Malik disagreed. "My family is full of scientists. Full of French-speaking Scientists that only talk about Science in French. I was never interested. So once I turned 18, I just left one morning. I said I was moving out to California to become a singer. I got as far as boulder. And I've been here for five years."

Payson now made eye contact with Malik for the first serious time.

"You're a singer?" She asked, thinking of her friend and fellow gymnast, Emily, who at one point was torn between two musicians.

But she quickly tossed that thought out of her head.

"Nope," Malik muttered. "I wanted to be, but it's not possible. I am much better at being the manager of a Boulder Starbucks."

He laughed a little, but Payson did not.

"Why didn't you go after your dream?" Payson demanded to know.

After falling off the bars at Nationals, Payson felt shocked that someone had the chance to go after a dream, but wouldn't.

"It's just not possible," he said again.

"No, you only get one chance to go for what matters most in your life," Payson started to rant, "and you don't realize how much you truly want your dream, once it's gone."

"I told you, it wasn't possible," he raised his voice.

"No, why didn't you go?" She demanded again.

"Because nobody wants a singer that looks like this."

Malik ripped off his two black gloves and revealed the skin of his hands, he was cloaked in brown scars with traces of red. The skin was mangled and charred. And Payson gasped and gulped a little. She was just thankful that she didn't scream.

"Every time I wanted to sing for people," he began, "they always wanted to see what I looked like. They always wanted to know why someone would want to sing in a body suit with turtleneck black gloves. It got to the point where no one cared what I sounded like, but they only cared about the look. And I don't have the look."

"I'm sorry," she said. "How did it happen?"

Malik looked at her, and his eyes bore signs of discomfort.

"I was ten. It was my birthday, and it was almost midnight. I had my birthday cake earlier, but I thought the candles weren't a big enough flame. So I tried to make a bigger flame with the kerosene lantern. I lit it, but then I knocked it over in the living room. The couch caught fire first, and I tried to put it out, but there were too many flames. It just felt like it was eating me, and it guess it kind of was."

"Oh my gosh," Payson exclaimed.

"The whole house was burned to the ground," he continued. "I was the only one hurt."

"How bad is it?" Payson asked him.

"What? The scars?" He asked back. "Everything from the neck down almost, but that I honestly do not mind anymore. After the fire, my four sisters didn't hated me. I was trapped in a cast of bandages and ointment for 11 months, and I could hear them complaining about losing their stuff in the fire, losing their make up kits, and easy bake oven. I wanted to be like 'try losing all the skin on your lower body, and being stuck in one room for almost a year. Then, talk to me about lost.'"

Payson nodded, and she smiled at Malik as he put his gloves back on.

"I can't know bad that was," she admitted, "but last year well…I was a gymnast. I am a gymnast, and I worked harder than anyone I know. Anyone on the face of the Earth, and one second I fell off the bars, and I fractured my spine. I had lost it all too. My dream was gone. I could barely walk, and I was trapped in a giant metal back brace that made me look like a "teenage mutant ninja turtle," as one person put it."

Malik laughed.

"I should not have laughed," he acknowleged.

"No, not really," Payson smiled jokingly. "I didn't think anyone else could understand. What it's like to one second be yourself, and the next second you have the same mind, but you feel like nothing. Your life feels gone forever."

"But you said you're still a gymnast," Malik pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess I am," said Payson.

"I didn't catch your name," mentioned Malik.

"Payson," she answered. "Payson Keeler."

"Well, Payson, why don't I write you my address here, and you should come over tonight. And I don't mean anything more than just coming over."

He began scribbling numbers and letters on a napkin and slid it to her.

Payson froze.

"Maybe," she said at last, and took the napkin in her pocket. Then, she was out the door in a flash, not realizing she hadn't ordered any coffee.

III

Payson sat at the dinner table with her mother. Her sister Becca was off with one of her friends for dinner, probably Avery, but Payson wasn't sure.

"Are you okay?" Her mother asked. "You haven't touched your mashed potatoes."

"I am fine," Payson answered.

"Well, okay, what did you do today?" she pressed.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Payson responded with lightning speed.

"Sounds like…okay," she answered.

"Can I be excused Mom?" Payson asked for permission. "I didn't make it to the gym today, so I probably should get in another run."

"Sounds good."

"Okay, bye. Oh but mom, I will be at the gym tomorrow. I'll be there as early as I can."

Payson was aware of her awkwardness, but she was more concerned with the uncomfortable feeling of butterflies and adrenaline in her system.

_"What are you doing Payson?" she told herself as she walked outside. "What are you doing? You are Payson Keeler. You don't date boys. Besides, he's like 23, and you are nowhere near his…Oh, you didn't tell him your age did you? And the fact that you're growing now means, he probably thinks you're a lot older. Would he care if you were still a minor? And why are you still walking? This is not like you at all. Don't do this Payson. You've seen what happens when gymnasts date guys. It ruined things between Kaylie and Lauren. It cost Emily her chance to compete in Calais. So why are you still walking?" _

A half hour later she was at his door. Her blood felt like it was on fire and racing too quickly.

The door opened, and Malik was standing in front of her, wearing pajama pants and a long sleeve pajama shirt with gloves.

"I didn't expect you to come," he confessed.

"No one else understands, do they?" She asked him. "No one else knows what it's like to have that kind of loss."

And she took a step forward and she kissed him.

To Be Continued.


End file.
